m:...:;     •; 


Cbe  Boy  f^rom 
JVlissouri  Talley 


COMPLIMENTS  OP  THE 


Associated  with  the  Berkeley  National  Bank,  Berkeley,  California 


The   Boy  trom  Missouri  Valle> 


-    Copyright   '. 
By.'Elbftrt  Hubbard 


,5^ 


The  Boy  From  Missouri  Valley 

ELL,  it  was  n*t  so  very  long 
ago — only  about  twenty-three 
years. 

I  was  foreman  of  a  factory,  and 
he  lived  a  thousand  miles  away, 
at  Missouri  Valley,  Iowa.  I  was 
twenty-four,  and  he  was  fourteen.  His  brother  was 
traveling  for  the  Firm,  and  one  day  this  brother 
showed  me  a  letter  from  the  lad  in  Missouri 
Valley.  The  missive  was  so  painstaking,  so  exact, 
and  revealed  the  soul  of  the  child  so  vividly,  that 
I  laughed  aloud — a  laugh  that  died  away  to  a  sigh. 
H  The  boy  was  beating  his  wings  against  the  bars 
— the  bars  of  Missouri  Valley — he  wanted  op- 
portunity. And  all  he  got  was  unending  toil,  dead 
monotony,  stupid  misunderstanding,  and  com  bread 
and  molasses. 

There  was  n't  love  enough  in  Missouri  Valley  to 
go  'round — that  was  plain.  The  boy's  mother  had 
been  of  the  Nancy  Hanks  type — worn,  yellow 
and  sad — and  had  given  up  the  fight  and  been 

I 


fvf49823 


left  to  sleep  her  long  sleep  in  a  prairie  grave  on 
one  of  the  many  migrations.  The  father's  ambition 
had  got  stuck  in  the  mud,  and  under  the  tongue- 
lash  of  a  strident,  strenuous,  gee-haw  consort,  he 
had  run  up  the  white  flag. 
The  boy  wanted  to  come  East. 
It  was  a  dubious  investment — a  sort  of  financial 
plunge,  a  blind  pool — to  send  for  this  buckwheat 
midget.  The  fare  was  thirty-three  dollars  and  fifty 
cents. 

The  proprietor,  a  cautious  man,  said  that  the  boy 
was  n*t  worth  the  money.  There  were  plenty  of 
boys — the  alleys  swarmed  with  them. 
So  there  the  matter  rested. 
But  the  lad  in  Missouri  Valley  didn't  let  it  rest 
long.  He  had  been  informed  that  we  did  not  con- 
sider him  worth  thirty-three  dollars  and  fifty  cents, 
so  he  offered  to  split  the  difference.  He  would 
come  for  half — he  could  ride  on  half  fare — the 
Railroad  Agent  at  Missouri  Valley  said  that  if  he 
bought  a  half-fare  ticket,  got  on  a  train,  and  ex- 
plained to  the  conductor  and  everybody  that  he 
was  'leven,  goin*  on  twelve,  and  stuck  to  it,  it 

2 


would  be  all  right;  and  he  would  not  expect  any 
wages  until  he  had  paid  us  back.  He  had  no  money 
of  his  own,  all  he  earned  was  taken  from  him  by 
the  kind  folks  with  whom  he  lived,  and  would  be 
until  noon  of  the  day  he  was  twenty-one  years  old. 
Did  we  want  to  invest  sixteen  dollars  and  seventy- 
five  cents  in  him? 

We  waxed  reckless  and  sent  the  money — more 
than  that,  we  sent  a  twenty-dollar  bill.  We  plunged! 
Q  In  just  a  week  the  investment  arrived.  He  did 
not  advise  when  he  would  come,  or  how.  He  came, 
we  saw,  he  conquered.  Why  should  he  advise  of 
his  coming?  He  just  reported,  and  his  first  words 
were  the  Duke*s  motto:  "I  am  here.*' 
He  was  unnecessarily  freckled  and  curiously  small. 
His  legs  had  the  Greek  curve,  from  much  horse- 
back riding,  herding  cattle  on  the  prairies;  his  hair 
was  the  color  of  a  Tam worth  pig;  his  hands  were 
red;  his  wrists  bony  and  briar-scarred.  He  carried 
his  shoes  in  his  hands,  so  as  not  to  wear  out  the 
sidewalk,  or  because  they  aggravated  sundry  stone- 
bruises — I  don't  know  which. 
**I  am  here!"  said  the  lad,  and  he  planked  down 

3 


on  the  desk  three  dollars  and  twenty-five  cents. 
It  was  the  change  from  the  twenty-dollar  bill. 
*' Did  n't  you  have  to  spend  any  money  on  the 
way  here?"  I  asked. 

"No,  I  had  all  I  wanted  to  eat,'*  he  replied,  and 
pointed  to  a  basket  that  sat  on  the  floor. 
I  called  in  the  Proprietor,  and  we  looked  the  lad 
over.  We  walked  around  him  twice,  gazed  at  each 
other,  and  adjourned  to  the  hallway  for  consul- 
tation. 

The  boy  was  not  big  enough  to  do  a  man's  work, 
and  if  we  set  him  to  work  in  the  factory  with  the 
city  boys,  they  would  surely  pick  on  him  and 
make  life  for  him  very  uncomfortable.  He  had  a 
half-sad  and  winsome  look  that  had  won  from 
our  hard  hearts  something  akin  to  pity.  He  was 
so  innocent,  so  full  of  faith,  and  we  saw  at  a  glance 
that  he  had  been  overworked,  underfed — at  least 
misfed — and  underloved.  He  was  different  from 
other  boys — and  in  spite  of  the  grime  of  travel, 
and  the  freckles,  he  was  pretty  as  a  ground- 
squirrel. 

His  faith  made  him  whole:  he  won  us. 
4 


But  why  had  we  brought  him  to  the  miserable 
and  dirty  city — this  grim  place  of  disillusionment! 
"He  might  index  the  letter-book?**  I  ventured. 
"That*s  it,  yes,  let  him  index  the  letter-book.** 
So  I  went  back  and  got  the  letter-book.  But 
the  boy's  head  only  came  to  the  top  of  the  stand- 
up  desk,  and  when  he  reached  for  the  letter-book 
on  the  desk  he  had  to  grope  for  it.  I  gave  him 
my  high-stool,  but  this  was  too  low. 
*'I  know  what  to  do,**  he  said.  Through  the  win- 
dow that  looked  from  the  office  to  the  shipping 
room,  he  had  spied  a  pile  of  boxes.  *'I  know  what 
to  do!'* 

In  a  minute  he  had  placed  two  boxes  end  to  end, 
nailed  them  together,  clinched  the  nails,  and  car- 
ried his  improvised  high-stool  into  the  office. 
"1  know  what  to  do!'* 
And  he  usually  did;  and  does  yet. 
We  found  him  a  boarding  place  with  a  worthy 
widow  whose  children  had  all  grown  big  and 
flown.  Her  house  was  empty,  and  so  was  her 
mother-heart:  she  was  like  that  old  woman  in 
Rab,  who  was  placed  on  the  surgeon*s  table  and 

5 


given  chloroform,  and  who  held  to  her  breast  an 
imaginary  child,  and  crooned  a  lullaby  to  a  babe, 
dead  thirty  years  before. 

So  the  boy  boarded  with  the  widow  and  worked 
in  the  office 

He  indexed  the  letter-book — he  indexed  every- 
thing. And  then  he  filed  everything — letters,  bills, 
circulars.  He  stamped  the  letters  going  out,  swept 
the  office,  and  dusted  things  that  had  never  been 
dusted  before.  He  was  orderly,  alert,  active,  cheer- 
ful, and  the  Proprietor  said  to  me  one  day,  "I 
wonder  how  we  ever  got  along  without  that  boy 
from  Missouri  Valley." 

Six  months  had  passed,  and  there  came  a  day 
when  one  of  the  workmen  intimated  to  the  Pro- 
prietor that  he  better  look  out  for  that  red-headed 
office  boy. 

Of  course,  the  Proprietor  insisted  on  hearing  the 
rest,  and  the  man  then  explained  that  almost 
every  night  the  boy  came  back  to  the  office.  He 
had  seen  him.  The  boy  had  a  tin  box  and  letter- 
books  in  it,  and  papers,  and  the  Lord  knows 
what  not! 


Watch  him!  QThe  Proprietor  advised  with  me 
because  I  was  astute — at  least  he  thought  I  was, 
and  I  agreed  with  him. 
He  thought  Jabesh  was  at  the  bottom  of  it. 
Jabesh  was  our  chief  competitor.  Jabesh  had  hired 
away  two  of  our  men,  and  we  had  gotten  three 
of  his.  "Jabe,"  we  called  him  in  derision — Jabe 
had  gotten  into  the  factory  twice  on  pretense  of 
seeing  a  man  who  wanted  to  join  the  Epworth 
Leagu    or  Something.  We  had  ordered  him  out, 
because  we  knew  he  was  trying  to  steal  our  "pro 
cess.**  Jabe  was  a  rogue — that  was  sure. 
Worse  than  that,  Jabe  was  a  Methodist.  The 
Proprietor  was  a  Baptist,  and  regarded  all  Metho- 
dists with  a  prenatal  aversion  that  swung  between 
fear  and  contempt.  The  mere  thought  of  Jabe 
gave  us  gooseflesh.  Jabesh  was  the  bugaboo  that 
haunted  our  dreams.  Our  chief  worry  was  that 
we  would  never  be  able  to  save  our  Bank  Bal- 
ance alive,  for  fear  o*  Jabe. 
"That  tamashun  Jabe  has  hired  our  office  boy  to 
give  him  a  list  of  our  customers — he  is  stealing 
our  formulas,  I  know,**  said  the  Proprietor.  "The 

7 


cub*s  pretense  of  wanting  a  key  to  the  factory  so 
he  could  sweep  out  early,  was  really  that  he 
might  get  in  late.'* 

Next  day  we  watched  the  office  boy.  He  surely 
looked  guilty — his  freckles  stood  out  like  sun- 
spots,  and  he  was  more  bow-legged  than  ever. 
Q  The  workman  who  had  given  the  clue,  on  being 
further  interrogated,  was  sure  he  had  seen  Jabe 
go  by  the  factory  twice  in  one  evening. 
That  settled  it. 

At  eight  o'clock  that  night  we  went  down  to  the 
factory.  It  was  a  full  mile,  and  in  an  "objection- 
able" part  of  the  town. 

There  was  a  dim  light  in  the  office.  We  peered 
through  the  windows,  and  sure  enough,  there 
was  the  boy  hard  at  work  writing.  There  were 
several  books  before  him,  a  tin  box  and  some 
papers.  We  waited  and  watched  him  copy  some- 
thing into  a  letter-book. 

We  withdrew  and  consulted.  To  confront  the 
culprit  then  and  there  seemed  the  proper  thing. 
We  unlocked  the  door  and  walked  softly  in. 
Q  The  boy  was  startled  by  our  approach,  and 


still  more  by  our  manner.  When  the  Proprietor 
demanded  the  letter  that  he  had  just  written,  he 
began  to  cry,  and  then  we  knew  we  had  him. 
Q  The  Proprietor  took  the  letter  and  read  it.  It 
was  to  Jimmy  Smith  in  Missouri  Valley.  It  told 
all  about  how  the  writer  was  getting  on,  about 
the  good  woman  he  boarded  with,  and  it  told  all 
about  me  and  about  the  Proprietor.  It  pictured 
us  as  models  of  virtue,  excellence  and  truth. 
But  we  were  not  to  be  put  off  thus.  We  exam- 
ined the  letter-book,  and  alas!  it  was  filled  only 
with  news  letters  to  sundry  cousins  and  aunts. 
Then  we  dived  to  the  bottom  of  the  tin  box,  still 
in  search  of  things  contraband.  All  we  found  was 
a  little  old  Bible,  a  diary,  and  some  trinkets  in 
the  way  of  lace  and  a  ribbon  that  had  once  been 
the  property  of  the  dead  Nancy  Hanks. 
Then  we  found  a  Savings-Bank  Book,  and  by  the 
entries  saw  that  the  boy  had  deposited  one  dol- 
lar every  Monday  morning  for  eleven  weeks.  He 
had  been  with  us  for  six  months,  and  his  pay 
was  two  dollars  a  week  and  board — we  won- 
dered what  he  had  done  with  the  rest! 

9 


We  questioned  the  offender  at  length.  The  boy 
averred  that  he  came  to  the  office  evenings  only 
because  he  w^anted  to  write  letters  and  get  his 
Vithmetic  lesson.  He  would  not  think  of  writing 
his  personal  letters  on  our  time,  and  the  only  rea- 
son he  wanted  to  write  at  the  office  instead  of  at 
home,  was  so  he  could  use  the  letter-press.  He 
wanted  to  copy  all  of  his  letters — one  should  be 
business-like  in  all  things. 

The  Proprietor  coughed  and  warned  the  boy 
never  to  let  it  happen  again.  We  started  for  home, 
walking  silently  but  very  fast. 
The  stillness  was  only  broken  once,  when  the 
Proprietor  said:  *'That  consamed  Jabe!  If  ever 
I  find  him  around  our  factory,  I  '11  tweak  his  nin- 
compoop nose,  that's  what  I  will  do." 
Twenty-three  years!  That  factory  has  grown  to 
be  the  biggest  of  its  kind  in  America.  The  red- 
haired  boy  from  Missouri  Valley  is  its  manager. 
Emerson  says,  "Every  great   institution   is  the 
lengthened  shadow  of  a  single  man." 
The  Savings-Bank  Habit  came  naturally  to  that 
boy  from  Missouri  Valley.  In  a  year  he  v/as  get- 

10 


ting  six  dollars  and  board,  and  he  deposited  four 
dollars  every  Monday.  In  three  years  this  had  in- 
creased to  ten,  and  some  years  after,  when  he 
became  a  partner,  he  had  his  limit  in  The  Bank. 
The  Savings-Bank  Habit  is  not  so  bad  as  the 
Cab  Habit — nor  so  costly  to  your  thinkery  and 
w^allet  as  the  Cigarette  Habit. 
I  have  been  w^age-earner,  foreman  and  employer. 
I  have  had  a  thousand  men  on  my  pay-roll  at  a 
time,  and  I  '11  tell  you  this :  The  man  with  the 
Savings-Bank  Habit  is  the  one  who  never  gets 
laid  off :  he  's  the  one  who  can  get  along  without 
you,  but  you  cannot  get  along  without  him.  The 
Savings-Bank  Habit  means  sound  sleep,  good  di- 
gestion, cool  judgment  and  manly  independence. 
The  most  healthful  thing  I  know  of  is  a  Savings- 
Bank  Book — there  are  no  microbes  in  it  to  steal 
away  your  peace  of  mind.  It  is  a  guarantee  of 
good  behavior. 

The  Missouri  Valley  boy  gets  twenty-five  thou- 
sand a  year,  they  say.  It  is  none  too  much.  Such 
masterly  men  are  rare;  Rockefeller  says  he  has 

vacancies  for  eight  now,  with  salaries  no  object, 

II 


if  they  can  do  the  work.  QThat  business  grew 
because  the  boy  from  Missouri  Valley  grew  with 
it,  and  he  grew  because  the  business  grew.  Which 
is  a  free  paraphrase  from  Macaulay,  who  said 
that  Horace  Walpole  influenced  his  age  because 
he  was  influenced  by  his  age. 
Jabesh  has  gone  on  his  Long  Occasion,  discour- 
aged and  whipped  by  an  unappreciative  world. 
Jabe  never  acquired  the  Savings-Bank  Habit.  If 
he  had  had  the  gumption  to  discover  a  red-haired 
boy  from  Missouri  Valley,  he  might  now  be  sport- 
ing an  automobile  on  Delaware  Avenue  instead 
of  being  in  Abraham's  Bosom. 
We  shall  all  be  in  Abraham's  Bosom  day  after 
tomorrow ;  and  then  I  '11  explain  to  Jabesh  that 
no  man  ever  succeeded  in  a  masterly  way,  except- 
ing as  he  got  level-headed  men  with  the  Savings- 
Bank  Habit  to  do  his  work.  Blessed  is  that  man 
who  has  found  somebody  to  do  his  work. 
There  is  plenty  of  iron  pyrites,  but  the  Proprie- 
tor and  I  know  Pay  Gravel  when  we  see  it. 
J  guess  so ! 

(Slbert  Hubbard 


12 


'aVlM^ 


^ 


Geo.  P.  Baxter,  Pres, 
J.  S.  Mills,  Asst.  Cofhier 


J.  W.  Richards,  Vice-Pres. 
Benj.  Bangs,  VicC'Pres. 


^cc-s 


m^m^ 


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^i/G)'* 


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DIRECTORS 

Geo.  P.  Baxter,  .....  President 

Benj.  Bangs,  Pres.  Berry-Bangs  Land  Co.,  .  Vice-President 
J.  W.  Richards,  Capitalist  .  .  Vice-President 

Louis  Titus,  Titus,  Wright  &  Creed      .  .  Attorney 

I.  W.  Heilman,  Pres.  Wells,  Fargo-Nevada  National  Bank,  S,  F, 
W.  J.  Hotchkiss,  .  President  Central  California  Canneries 
Dr.  Thomas  Addison,  Pacific  Coast  Mgr.  General  Electric  Co. 
A.  G.  Freeman,  Manager  J.  K.  Armsby  Company 

Chas.  £.  Miller,  .....  Capitalist 

F.  L.  Lipman,  Vice-Pres.  Wells,  Fargo-Nevada  Nat.  Bank,  S.  F. 
Duncan  McDuffie,  Mason  McDuffie  Company 


University  Sai 

with  its  fully  paid  capital  and  surplus,  respon- 
sible Board  of  Directors  and  Officers,  affords 
the  best  security  for  savings. 
Interest  paid  on  Savings  deposits  at  the  rate 
of  three  and  one-half  per  cent  per  annum, 
payable  half  yearly,  First  of  January  and  the 
First  of  July. 

Safe  deposit  Boxes  in  our  vaults  for  rent  at 
Twenty-five  cents  to  One  Dollar  per  month. 
C[  Our  Boxes  are  for  rent  by  the  month. 

} 

N.  E.  Corner  Center  and  Shattuck  Avenue 
in  BERKELEY,    CALIFORNIA 

1 

Qaylawo 


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Binder 


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iv!49823 


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